Suffocation
by shannanagin
Summary: Jim's thoughts on the Booze Cruise. Oneshot.


I own nothing.

**Suffocation**

You can't breathe.

You literally cannot breathe and your lungs are beginning to burn as you watch her. As you watch her and him and she's – smiling?

How can she be smiling like that? How can she possibly be – looking up at him and holding onto him and laughing like that?

You think your head might cave in right there on that boat. You think it feels like the walls are pressing in on you, these people are pressing in on you and you're so compressed, so small.

So… nothing.

The bottle you're holding is cold in your hands and you're holding it so tightly that it's maybe going to break under your fingers and you really don't care.

Because she's smiling?

And how can she - sometimes when she's across the office she looks up and catches your glance and it just makes your entire body burn white heat and you know you don't imagine the way it makes her face flush too. You know you don't imagine that.

And you try to keep your distance but she's always finding these little ways to touch your arm or press against you in the conference room or brush your hair away from your face.

You know you don't just imagine the way it feels to be close to her.

And earlier on the boat deck she was looking at you like she was ready to hear what you wanted to say, like maybe she didn't need you to say anything and all and – fuck –

It's all real.

Sometimes you love her so much that you're afraid you might start to hate her for all that. For all the things she does that make you love her.

Because she's still smiling. Like she's happy. Like she could ever possibly be happy with this person who is so completely wrong for her and are you really the only one who sees it? Is everyone else blind to the fact that they don't even seem right together as they move on the dance floor?

Are you imagining that too?

You're just so fucking tired of going around and around and always ending up back in the same place.

You shouldn't have to hurt like this. You shouldn't have to feel like this.

There's a prickling behind your eyes and a tightness in the back of your throat and – you're not going to cry. You are not going to cry because you're on a booze cruise with your coworkers and you can't –

But the tears begin to well up and you keep your eyes wide because you know that if you blink – and you hate yourself for that. Absolutely hate yourself for crying on a boat in a room full of people.

She's still smiling and laughing and kissing –

You get up and grab your coat and walk out side because you can't possibly - you can't possibly go through this anymore and you're not even sure if you're breathing yet. All you know is that you have to get off this boat, you have to get out of this place and of course – of course you would be stuck in the one place right now that you can't even fucking leave.

Suddenly someone's standing next to you and you almost forgot about _her _and she's standing_ too_ close and you're feeling claustrophobic because you can't remember how to even draw air into your lungs anymore and she's the wrong person. You just want her to move away, want her to let go of your arm.

Do you think that will that ever be us?

No. How can she even think that? How can she possibly - ?

Then the words are coming out of your mouth before you can even stop them and you just don't care. You don't even care because you're so fucking tired of hurting like this and maybe – maybe you can feel a little better to push that off on someone else. Make someone else hurt for once.

But it doesn't make you feel better. It doesn't make you feel better when _she_ starts crying too, when she slams a door in your face and leaves you alone again.

You think you could jump overboard because it's a chance to escape. You think you could just not show up for work the next day because it'll feel like drowning. You think you need to tell someone, something, anything because the loneliness is screaming in your ears and you just hate yourself too much.

It's maybe the worst idea you've ever had but there's something – something like release in saying the words, in maybe trying to let it go.

Never, ever, ever give up.

Yeah, that's the problem.

On the way home you roll down the window even though it's freezing and the wind bites at your nose and cheeks.

You need the air.

You need the reminder to breathe.


End file.
